i went to cleveland for my grandmother's 90th birthday party a couple of weekends ago. she's in amazingly good health. still sharp as a tack, still physically agile, still opinionated and unafraid to let you know exactly what she thinks. probably one of the reasons she's lived so long and in such good health. she doesn't hold it in. she just says it. in 90 years, she's never ever been wrong about anything. i mean it, just ask her. she'll tell you.
so, i attribute her long life to that. that and the one gin martini a day.
on sunday afternoon, most of the family had congregated in gram's kitchen to say their goodbyes. i hugged her:
"happy birthday, gram. i love you."
"i love you too." then, as the entire family looks on, she leans over to whisper something into my ear. i'm thinking she's going to say something to me about The Cute (who came with me, the brave, sweet man). what a lovely man he is. how kindhearted and how well he handled being surrounded by 30 of my relatives. and how do you spell his last name again?
"and i think you should brush your hair."